


Lost

by IncompleteSentanc (Erava)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Dark Comedy, Dumbledore Makes Mistakes, Evil Harry Potter, Gen, Hermione Cleans Them Up, Hermione Might Be Insane But She Wears It Well, Innocent Everyone Else, Marauders' Era, Order of the Phoenix - Freeform, Reverse Bash Stories, Warning: Marauders, disguises
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 16:02:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13011258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erava/pseuds/IncompleteSentanc
Summary: The Harry Potter Hermione knew and loved was gone forever, as was her beloved husband. She has one chance to change things, and she doesn't quite know what she's doing, but she's always been good at figuring things out on her own.(A reverse typical bashing fic, in which Dumbledore made necessary mistakes, Harry Potter joins the Dark Side of the Force, and Hermione loses everything, including her mind - but she does just fine without it.)





	Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Bahahahahahaha!
> 
> Enjoy.

Hermione grips the object with one hand, and her throat with the other.

Both hands are slick with blood, enough so that she slips on the object - but she turns it, slowly but surely. Perhaps one too many times. Or two.

_ Damn, _ she thinks as the wards flare and her throat gushes.  _ Death, if you’re listening,  _ she prays to the only god she knows exists,  _ spare me for a few minutes longer. _

Her fingers slip again, and she’d cuss aloud, but blood slides through the fingers on her other hand.

_ Too many, _ she thinks, but puts it around her neck regardless.

_Too many,_ but she lets the magic carry her away, even as the wards around her humble niche shatter. “Hermione,” She hears, and it’s the last thing she hears before the magic sweeps her away.

The world spins, the time-turner dragging her, and for a moment, she’s frozen in time. The blood stops flowing through her fingers and she has the chance to breathe, bracing herself before-

Time restarts.

She slams into the ground with force, knocking the wind from her, and it’s a terrible combination with the blood gushing from her throat.  _ Damn,  _ she thinks as she struggles to catch breath that escapes her throat.

Her vision blackens for a moment before hands grip her, lifting her up and propping her against the back of what feels like a chair.  _ Please be him,  _ she pleads as the spots fill her vision.  _ Please, please be him. Please let me not have fucked this up, _ she begs, tears stinging at her throat.

Something touches her lips, a potion filling her mouth, and she eagerly chugs down the Blood-Replenishing Potion. She hears someone speak - a familiar tone that makes her sob and blood gush through her fingers at the force - and immediately, breathing becomes easier. She coughs and blood comes up through her mouth and not just her throat.

Hermione inhales, deep and slow, and the spots begin to fade. “Poppy!” She hears  _ him _ call through the fire. “I need you, now. There’s a wounded woman in my rooms - a gash to her throat.”

Hermione gurgles out something she isn’t even sure is, but Dumbledore looks at her before looking back into the fire. “She arrived with a time-turner.”

Silence comes from the other end of the fire before, quiet but determined, “I’m coming through.”

Dumbledore steps away and Madame Pomfrey steps through a moment later, a bag of potions at her side. Her wand is immediately out and she crouches in front of Hermione, casting wildly.

Her breathing eases, the bleeding slows, and Hermione closes her eyes in relief for a long moment.

“No, you don’t. Stay with me, dear.” Pomfrey says and she forces her eyes to open again. She opens her mouth just in time to catch a potion, and another after that, each tasting foul until a second Blood-Replenishing Potion, which just tastes metallic. “I think I’ve stabilized you, dear.” She says quietly, waving her wand for spell after spell. “Enough you can try talking, if you  _ must.” _ She casts a severe look at Dumbledore, who leans down and kneels beside the woman.

“Who are you, my dear girl?” He asks quietly. “And why did you seek me out?”

Hermione considers for a moment, tears burning her eyes as she looks at the man. “My name is irrelevant. I sought you out because you’re the only one who can stop the next Dark Lord.” She says hoarsely, pain throbbing her achy neck, and Dumbledore stares at her for a long minute.

Pomfrey does as well, until finally breaking the silence. “The  _ next _ Dark Lord?” She asks slowly. 

_ Too many times, _ Hermione thinks, and closes her eyes in pain.  _ I spun it too many times.  _ She forces her eyes back open, blinking heavily at Dumbledore. “What year is it?” She asks, slow and painful. 

“The year 1980.” He says grimly and she coughs a harsh, agonizing breath.

1980.

The year before Voldemort falls to Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

_ Too. Many. Times. _

She looks down at the Time-Turner and wonders just how many times she’d spun it, slippery and soaked in her own blood.

A testament to  _ his _ cruelty. To how lost to the dark he had become.

To slit the throat of his best friend.

_ I’ve improved on his technique, Hermione, _ He had said, and then killed Ron before Hermione could even blink. She screamed, and she fell next. Not to the Avada Kedavra - no, that the power of Voldemort, and he wasn’t a copycat.

He used his own techniques, and some of them were positively vicious.

Ron had died in agony for nothing. She hadn’t stayed to watch, fleeing to their hovel, tucked away and hidden from the world just in case.

_ Just in case. _

“Has Severus Snape come to you yet, Headmaster?” Hermione asks quietly, and Dumbledore’s eyes immediately become shrouded and harder. “I need to establish a timeline.”

“...He has not, no.” He says eventually, and Hermione breathes slowly through her nose.

“We need to stop him from becoming the next Dark Lord, Headmaster. He’ll be even more terrible than the last. Than the current.” She corrects, and Dumbledore arches an eyebrow.

“Severus will?” There’s doubt in his voice and it’s well placed.

“No.” Hermione corrects. “Not Snape.” She swallows thickly a glob of blood, throat burning and hands itching for her wand, anxiously rubbing her thumb over the time-turner.

“We need to stop who, then?”

“We need to stop…” Her voice catches, grief making her eyes burn almost as fiercely as her throat. He’d  _ killed Ron. _ So easily, too. So very calmly. “Harry Potter, Headmaster.” She chokes out, tears running down her face. 

He stares blankly at her for a long minute.

 

“We need to stop Harry Potter from becoming the next Dark Lord, Headmaster.” 


End file.
